


Radar

by lauraloves



Category: Ylvis
Genre: AU no wives and kids, Balle - Freeform, M/M, Nice dollop of angst, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraloves/pseuds/lauraloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with getting close to someone-closer than you ever dreamed or thought possible-is that when that person moves out of your reach they never really leave you. Together or apart, their presence (or absence) is marked. You close your eyes and whether alone in bed or in a crowded bar they emit a frequency that belies their location to you. They stay on your radar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet more Balle. #iwillgodownwiththisship

Bård had been on his radar all night. Calle watched as he readily downed any drink offered and was quick to buy more for himself and anyone around him. It was a marked deviation from the man’s usual drinking behaviour; he was consuming far more than was usual and his normal happy and relaxed drunk demeanour was conspicuously absent. Yet despite his concern Calle had kept his distance from the other man, knowing that his presence would only serve to exacerbate Bård bad mood.

Calle had busied himself by talking with the crew members who were scattered around the bar, taking his cues from the group to laugh and feign merriment. Yet he was always conscious of Bård, who as the night wore on seemed to be withdrawing from the crowd. Soon Bård appeared to have given up any attempts at being social and sat at the table alone busying himself with his phone. However, by this point everyone was drunk and paid no attention to man which the flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. For once Calle’s attention was focused elsewhere, and he was enjoying a conversation with a friend at the bar when the barman tapped him on the shoulder. "Is he with you?" A mild jolt of panic shot through Calle, then he realised the barman was pointing over to Bård, who was now slumped seemingly unconscious on the sticky table surface.

"Uh, yes he's with us" he replied, careful to emphasise the last word of that sentence. 

"Well he needs to go, we can't have him in here in that state. Sorry."

“Okay, we’ll take care of it”.

Calle turned to his companion. “Kjetil, could you take Bård back to his hotel? It’s just a few blocks away”.

The other man shrugged. “I’m sorry, but my girlfriend is coming to meet me here soon, I can’t leave.” Kjetil paused, thinking. “Wait Calle, aren’t you both booked into the same hotel?”

“I’ll find someone. Thanks anyway”. Calle muttered, ignoring the puzzled look Kjetil gave him as he walked away. He looked around frantically for someone–anyone–to take care of the problem, but with no luck. Vegard had left already, and now it appeared that almost everyone else had too. The few stragglers dotted around looked in no better state than Bård. It was with a resigned sigh that he returned to the barman and assured him that he would see his friend safely back to his room.  

He tapped Bård on the shoulder, rousing him a little before the man slumped his head forward again. Calle nudged a glass of water under his nose. Bård's eyes, large and watery, were fixed on his own, yet really he was looking through Calle like he wasn't there. He ignored the water, appearing essentially catatonic. Despite their recent problems Calle hated seeing his friend in such a pathetic state. He pulled Bård’s arm around his shoulder, surprised at how compliant he was. Whilst pulling him to a standing position Bård’s legs gave way under him.

“Oi oii oii” Calle exclaimed a little too jovially as he caught Bård, and thankfully the other man found his feet and started walking. Yet he still clung to Calle, leaning a little closer than the older man deemed necessary or comfortable. He was immediately conscious of their proximity, and the temperature of the room seemed to up a notch as Bård folded his body into him, as the exertion of walking unaided seemed too much.

The crowd parted to let them through and the cold air hit Calle as they stepped outside. He doubted a taxi would take them in Bård's current state, but the distance to the hotel was short. To Calle’s relief, Bård had shrugged away from physical contact the moment they exited the club. He walked slowly, listing away from the pavement to straying into the middle of the empty road. Calle had to keep pulling him back, directing him on the straight and narrow at a more expedient pace. The journey took way longer than it would’ve had both men been completely sober. Calle had been sitting most of the night, and it only really occurred to him that he was quite drunk too as he tried to manoeuvre Bård. Finally they rounded the corner to the hotel, and Bård suddenly stopped to empty the contents of his stomach over the pavement. Calle looked away, keen to dissociate himself from the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Calle"   
It was the first word Bård had spoken to him all night, and Calle started at the shaky voice. He turned around to find Bård slumped against the wall, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He looked so confused and vulnerable that Calle was ready to put all the difficulties aside and give him a hug. However, knowing that would put him at risk of being splattered in vomit, he settled for a light, reassuring pat on the shoulder. This seemed to bring Bård out of his daze, and together they completed the journey to their hotel.

Their rooms were adjacent, with only a few meters separating their doors. Calle said goodbye as he scanned his key card, but hesitated when he noticed Bård just staring helplessly at his own door.

"I need help" Bård mumbled, staring at the door like it was some incomprehensible puzzle. 

"I've been telling you that for years" Calle replied, chuckling at his little joke. “Where’s your key?”

“In my pocket, I think”

When Bård made no move to locate his key card, Calle rolled his eyes and approached him. He sighed as he reached forward, patting Bård’s pockets whilst the man just stared vacantly into space. Finally he located the card in the most awkward inner front pocket of Bård’s jeans, and embarrassingly he had to grip his hip for purchase in order to pull it out.

Upon freeing the card from Bård’s pocket, Calle straightened up and noticed the other man was suddenly staring at him intently. Although still obviously drunk, he didn’t look as out of it as he had at the bar. Calle immediately felt more uncomfortable than ever. The look Bård fixed upon him was something inexplicable that he had only seen once before, and so that feeling of déjà vu elicited his ‘fight or flight’ response that prompted him to quickly unlock Bård’s door, push it open and make a hasty retreat. Yet a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Can't we talk about this?" The sentence sounded clear and coherent, stopping Calle in his tracks.

"Talk about what?" Cold fear spread through Calle, his stomach churned as if he was the one who had drunk himself sick.

"You know what. This!" with his free hand Bård gestured to the small empty space between them.

“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re fine” Calle replied, looking over his shoulder at his hotel room door.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night” Bård’s voice didn’t even sound accusatory. He sounded tired, brittle. Calle stared down at the floor. “Will you please just look at me?”

He didn’t want to look at Bård, because looking would mean acknowledging that it had happened and facing up to it. Calle simply didn’t feel equipped to deal with it now, if ever. Yet his failure to respond prompted Bård to grip his chin forcefully and jerk his face upwards so their eyes were level with each other. Calle looked at Bård, really properly looked at him, and swallowed hard. Bård loosened his grip and let his arm slacken to his side.

“I don’t want to talk about it”. Calle affirmed.  

“But why?”

"Because I'm not drunk enough to have a conversation that you're too drunk to remember."

"Fine. Maybe I am too drunk to talk about it. And maybe we don't need to _talk_ about it…” Bård suddenly gripped Calle’s hip, using his thumb to trace a small circle on the flesh underneath the hem of his t-shirt. Calle shut his eyes and inhaled sharply at the contact as Bård continued to speak. "…after all, we're good at finding other ways to communicate with each other". Bård delivered a devastating little half-smile, momentarily derailing Calle, allowing him to suddenly reach his arms around Calle and ease one of his hands into the back pocket of the older man’s jeans. Calle almost surrendered, but remembered that this could lead nowhere good. Bård was really drunk after all; was he even aware of what he was doing?

Calle backed off abruptly and stared at the younger man levelly. “No, Bård” he whispered.

There was fire in those beautiful blue eyes as Bård shot back at Calle "For fuck’s sake, Calle. What are you so afraid of?"

The tension that existed between them was palpable. Calle took a couple of deep breaths as they stared each other down for what seemed like an age. Finally his shoulders slumped and he turned on his heel, heading for his room.

"Goodnight, Bård”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calle is back in his hotel room, but not for long...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This somehow turned from straight-up smut to fluff. I blame Christmas sentimentality.

_“What are you so afraid of?”_

The parting words replayed in his head as he brushed his teeth and changed for bed. He surveyed his surroundings. The bathroom was cold and sterile. It didn’t even have a proper wall, just a frosted glass panel. If he was to share the room with anyone they would be able to make out his silhouette as he showered or took a piss. He supposed that the hotel designers thought this made the space look contemporary or luxurious, but Calle found it soulless. 

Calle had always hated hotels. The many tours with Raske Menn, although fun, had given him a distaste for that homogenous blend of artificial comfort. He stepped into the bedroom, staring blankly as the beige walls and nondescript furnishings. He yearned for something warm and genuine. Having taken two ibux with a glass of water, he pulled back the pristine white covers and settled into his usual sleeping position. He was so very tired.

_“What are you so afraid of?”_

He knew exactly what he was afraid of. Bård had always been promiscuous. He burnt through women like tissue. Although he was always honest and courteous, he made it clear to his lovers that he did not wish for any kind of solid commitment. Mercifully Bård didn’t talk much about his personal life. It was hard enough for Calle being in love with a man–and his best friend at that–without having to contend with the painful details about Bård’s conquests. Yet he often wondered if Bård was truly happy with his life, and why he had yet to settle down. He had such a warm, generous nature and a huge capacity for love. It seemed so incongruent with his womaniser image.  

The night they had hooked up Calle’s usual caution was overridden by the giddy, indescribable thrill of having his fantasies finally come true. However, when he awoke the following morning his hangover came with a feeling of bitter regret. He knew Bård’s patterns and behaviours, and he pre-empted signs that he had been considered just another notch on the bedpost. After all, Bård hadn’t stuck around long after the act, and the next time they saw each other he acted distracted and strangely melancholy. It scared Calle more than anything. In fact, Calle was so scared of what he considered inevitable rejection that he had avoided bringing up what happened since. He never dared to dream that they could become lovers, but he hoped they could go back to being friends. The latest development had left Calle reeling. Bård wanted to talk; what could he possibly have to say about the events of that night? Calle didn’t think it could be anything good.

The exhaustion he felt made it impossible to block out the memories that now flooded his system. Memories he had worked so hard to suppress. Having been extremely drunk when it happened, the memories were nothing but scattered fragments. But each fragment was enduring, sending a jolt through his system whenever he dared to rewind and push replay.

_Bård, kissing him with urgency, biting and sucking his neck as he unfastened his tie and yanked it off forcefully._

_Bård, full lips parted in a beautiful silent ‘o’ as he stared up from his position between Calle’s thighs._

_Bård, eyes shut tight, back arched in pleasure and mewling as Calle pushed into his tight heat._

Then there was the final memory, the one he replayed far too often. So often in fact that the memory was faded and worn, and Calle wondered if maybe he had dreamt this one.

_Bard, reaching out and grasping Calle’s hand in the darkness, their fingers interlacing as he fell into the most blissful sleep he had ever had in a bed that wasn’t his own._

Bård Bård Bård. It was all about Bård. It always had been.

This feeling like he was a tightly-coiled spring, it drove him crazy. He switched on the bedside lamp and that’s when he noticed it: an extra key card on the bedside table. He knew it wasn’t his card, as that one was resting in the cradle by the door. It was Bård’s key. He figured he must've forgotten to hand it back after opening the door for his drunk friend. The knowledge that he had the key to the other man's door stirred something in him. What was the use of resisting when only a door separated him from the man he had wanted for so long?

Still in his underwear, he padded out into the corridor and used the key card for the second time that night. The green light flashed to indicate that access had been granted, and he stepped inside. It seemed the most easy and natural thing to lift the duvet and slip into bed beside the warm body. Bård stirred and instinctively pulled him closer, and Calle experienced all the physiological symptoms he was used to feeling whenever he got too close to Bård: his stomach fluttered, his breathing quickened and his heart beat like a kick drum. He was content just to lie there and simply be close to Bård, he could deal with the fallout tomorrow when the other man awoke sober. For now he ached for just a little bit of closeness, in any way, shape or form. He expected Bård to simply fall back asleep, but instead Calle was rolled gently onto this back and felt warm hands roaming over his body. The sensation of Bård nuzzling on his neck brought him to full consciousness.

"Bård…we really need to sleep"

"I've waited so long to get you back in my bed, do you really think I want to sleep?" Bård’s lips never left Calle’s throat as he spoke.

Calle wanted to just switch off his brain and enjoy this, but his nagging doubts lingered. “Well maybe we should talk about this?”

 Bård ignored him, starting a trail of feather light kisses from Calle’s neck down to his clavicle.

“Oh, so NOW you want to talk, hm?” He finally responded. “I have a better idea; why don’t you be quiet and let me do things to you…”

Calle surrendered to the delicious sensations of Bård's loving treatment. This was nothing like the frantic exchange from the last time, when they had pulled each other’s clothes off in animalistic lust. This was achingly slow and tender. Bård's lips merely grazed over the other man’s chest, but it was enough to make Calle’s nipples harden and for other more obvious signs of arousal to occur. Bård murmured his approval as he grazed his fingers over the cloth of the other man’s boxers.

"I knew you’d come to me” Bård mumbled into Calle’s chest. Calle could almost feel the cocky smile as Bård spoke, simultaneously sliding his hand into Calle’s boxers. “That’s why I slipped my key in your pocket"

"Wait, wha..." Calle’s words were cut off abruptly as Bård gripped hold of the slightly swollen flesh between his legs and gave a few confident strokes.

Calle’s eyes fell shut. He wanted this so badly. He wanted him. However, every touch, every kiss, every _everything_ was threatening to sink him deeper and deeper into irrevocable infatuation.

“Bård” he choked out as the too-good feeling threatened to swell and wash over him in an intense wave of arousal. Bård ceased pumping on Calle’s now fully-hard cock, instead using his thumb to make small circles on the very tip. Calle wondered if he had done this to anyone else. He was so masterful at it.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?” Calle hated how small his voice sounded in the dark expanse of the room. He hoped that he wasn’t too far gone to head back should he receive an unsatisfactory answer.

Bård placed a small kiss at where his head rested on Calle’s naval. “Well, Mr Hellevang-Larsen…” he continued the kisses, causing the other to groan despite himself. “…I do believe I am jerking you off. Well, I was at least. Now I’ve stopped and I’m awaiting further instructions”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase, you pedantic little shit; WHY are you doing this?”

Bård let go of Calle’s cock, and he almost ached at the sudden loss of touch. He scooted up against the headboard and gestured for Calle to join him. The room was illuminated only with the street lamps from outside, but Calle noticed the serious look on the other’s face as they sat side by side. Bård’s words were so quiet the other man had to strain to listen. “I want you”.

They were the words Calle never dreamed of hearing, but it all sounded too good to be true. Calle immediately questioned the validity of the other’s feelings. “I want to believe you, I really do, but I’ve seen you say that before and not mean it”. It was true. He had frequently seen Bård pick up his phone and form loving words to his latest fling, whilst searching the landscape for his next conquest. Calle could never abide being taken for such a fool.

Bård looked visibly wounded by the suggestion. Calle almost expected to be asked to leave, but instead he moved his hand forward to stroke Calle’s cheek. “You know you’re the only man I’ve ever been with, right?” he whispered shyly.

“So… I’m an experiment?” The words rushed out quickly. It was the fear at the forefront of Calle’s mind, that he had served simply as a means to satisfy the curiosity of the other man.

“How can you say that? Do you really think I would do that to you?” Bård pulled his hand away and rubbed it on his own face in exasperation. “You are everything. Don’t you see that? Because if you don’t, you’re as dumb as me”. The words hadn’t even begun to sink in before Calle felt himself be pulled into a deep and passionate kiss. The force, the significance behind it was immeasurable. There was something there. The truth. The truth that Calle hadn’t dared himself to believe to be present.

When they broke off from the kiss Calle was surprised to find a single tear on the other’s cheek. He kissed it, the salty taste intermingled with the skin of the one he loved so much. Then he held the other, cradling him as he spoke again. “I was so overwhelmed, the next day. I panicked. For the first time in my life I wasn’t in control of my feelings and it scared me shitless. It’s partly why I drank so much last night. Aren’t you scared?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m terrified”.

“Good. Let’s be scared together” Bård mumbled into the crook of Calle’s neck. In the ensuing silence they clung to each other. Calle felt so open and exposed and more uncertain then he had ever felt his entire life. Yet he knew that if he could push past the fear, he could be happy in ways he never thought possible. As their lips met once more he felt the warmth spreading through to his extremities, and for the first time in years he dared to hope.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God jul! ^_^  
> As always, feedback enormously appreciated!


End file.
